There was no light—only the soft hum of something ancient, breathing in the silence.

  Ansh stood in the middle of a hall that stretched endlessly in all directions. A place drenched in shadows. He could see himself in every direction, reflected in hundreds of tall, crooked mirrors that twisted the truth ever so slightly. Some showed him standing still. Others... smiled when he wasn’t. And yet, in the largest mirror of all—the cursed one at the far end—he wasn’t there.

  He stared into its black glass, a giant obsidian monolith, as cold as it was silent. His reflection was missing. Entirely gone.

  "What is this place?" Veer’s voice cracked behind him. "They’re everywhere, Ansh! You’re everywhere!"

  Ansh turned. His friend stood trembling, eyes wide, darting from one mirror to the next. Then, with a gasp, he added, “Ansh… your nose. It’s bleeding.”

  Ansh wiped it slowly, confused. His fingers came away red.

  “Is this… some kind of dark magic? That half-serpent witch—did she do this to you?” Veer’s voice broke. He swayed.

  “Veer?”

  Before Ansh could reach out, Veer’s body crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

  “Veer!” Ansh shouted, but his legs buckled. His vision split like shattered glass. A weight pulled him under, like invisible vines coiling around his chest. He collapsed beside his friend, both sinking into darkness.

  Time passed.

  How long—they didn’t know. But when they opened their eyes again, it was to the sound of steel groaning above them.

  They were lying on the floor of a rusted cage, suspended in the air like a forgotten offering to the sky. The mirrors were gone. The silence was not.

  Ansh stirred, the air thick with iron and something else—something wrong.

  Then he screamed.

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  “My eyes! My eyeeesss!”

  The sound tore through the silence like a blade. He thrashed against the cold steel floor, hands clawing at his face in blind panic. “Ahhh-haaaa!” he howled, voice echoing against the cage walls.

  “I can’t see! Veer? Veer! Where are you?!”

  Veer stared, frozen. Ansh’s eyes… they were gone. Not gouged, not empty—just… gone. The sockets were filled with raw muscle and thick veins pulsing beneath torn skin. Blood soaked his cheeks like war paint, dripping down his chin, pooling on the floor.

  “Aansshhh!” Veer’s voice came out jagged But, distorted—like it wasn’t his own.

  He wanted to move, to help, to say something that could ground them back to reality—but what could you say to a friend whose eyes had vanished without reason? Who was bleeding from a face that moments ago was whole?

  Veer tried to scream again, but nothing came. His mouth hung open, trembling, soundless.

  His body… felt wrong.

  He looked down—and stopped breathing.

  Four lion legs. Covered in coarse golden fur, claws dull but massive. His arms were gone. His chest, broader. Muscles he didn’t remember ever having shifted with every breath. What… what am I?

  He tried to move. Just a twitch. Just one step toward Ansh.

  Nothing.

  His legs refused.

  He was paralyzed.

  “Ansh…” he whispered, but the sound didn’t leave his throat. His heart thudded in terror—or so he thought. Then he realized something worse. He couldn’t hear it.

  Not the pounding of panic,

  Not the rush of blood,

  Not even the rhythm of being alive,

  Just silence….

  And Ansh… writhing in blind agony, only feet away, covered in blood and screaming for a friend who could see everything but couldn’t move. Couldn’t help.

  Veer was trapped.

  Inside something that wasn’t him.

  Veer couldn’t move—but not because of fear.

  Something deeper held him still. Something... inside.

  Like invisible chains wrapped around his thoughts, not his body.

  He looked down again. Four lion legs. Massive, powerful. But useless. His human torso rose above them, trembling with every shallow breath. His hands—still his—gripped the metal floor, fingertips shaking.

  He had always been this way. Hadn’t he?

  No… wait.

  Hadn’t he walked beside Ansh, like any other person? With two legs? Two arms?

  The memory was there. But distant. Fogged. Changed.

  “Ansh…” his lips moved, but the name felt like it was echoing into the wrong world. A world he wasn’t sure was real anymore.

  Ansh screamed again—blind, bloodied, broken.

  And Veer could only watch.

  A part of him wanted to cry out. To lunge forward. To fight the curse that held them both hostage.

  But something else whispered… Soft, Cold, Ancient….

  “Stay still. Watch. Obey.”

  It wasn’t a voice. It was a presence, threading through the air like mist through bones. A hint of something more—like they weren’t alone. Like their minds weren’t theirs.

  Just pieces,

  Just puppets,

  Under the hand of something dark…..